Read Online Mayhem in High Heels by Gemma Halliday - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gemma Halliday
Tags: General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, cozy mystery, Weddings - Planning, Women fashion designers
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death was one stab wound to the back with a cake knife, wiped clean of prints. No defensive wounds, which indicates the killer was someone she knew and trusted. Time of death was approximately 10:32 am."
"Wow, that's a specific approximation."
"Her watch stopped."
I raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged. "Got clogged with buttercream."
"What about DNA?"
"Have to wait for lab techs to finish processing."
"Okay. What else?"
"That's it."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
I sank back in my seat, suddenly thinking Dana and Marco were right. If that was all he had so far, Ramirez really did need our help.
Having divulged all he knew, Ramirez focused on the TV. Me - I had no interest in guys in squeaky shoes putting a ball in a net. Instead I wandered over to my drawing table, picking up a sketch for a pair of ruby red slingbacks I'd been working on. On the floor next to my drawing table sat a brown package that I'd swear hadn't been there this morning.
"Where'd that come from?" I asked, nodding with my head.
"UPS brought it after you went to the gym. Looks like a wedding present."
I dropped my sketch with a squeal. "We have unopened gifts in the house? Why didn't you tell me?"
I didn't wait for an answer, instead grabbing a pair of scissors from my drawing table and attacking the box. It was addressed to "the Future Mrs. Jack Ramirez" (which elicited another high-pitched squeal on my part) from Uncle Cal, my Mom's oldest brother. In a flurry of packing peanuts and bubble wrap, I dug into the sucker, pulling out our very first wedding gift, the first thing that belonged to us as a couple. I felt anticipation building in my stomach, as I emerged with a crystal... um...
"What the hell is that?" Ramirez asked, staring at our first wedding gift.
It was clear, angular, and... kinda shaped like a duck. With a spout coming out of its beak. And a handle made of crystal tail feathers.
"Gravy boat?"
"It looks like a duck."
"A duck-shaped gravy boat?"
Ramirez grinned. "Does this mean you're gonna learn how to cook when we get married?"
I resisted the urge to throw the gravy boat at him (I threw a packing peanut instead), shoving our anticlimactic first gift back in the box.
"Tell you what," I said. "I'll learn to cook when you learn to scrub toilets."
"Takeout it is."
"So," I said, joining him on the sofa. "Dana and Marco agreed to help plan the wedding now that Gigi's... well, you know..." I trailed off, not able to actually make myself say the words.
Ramirez narrowed his eyes. "Marco? He's the guy with the eyeliner?"
I nodded.
Ramirez shook his head. "God help us."
"They promised they'd keep it tasteful. Small."
He shot me a 'yeah right' look.
I would have argued with him, but honestly I had my own doubts.
"So... um, we still need to let the caterer know about the cake. I know we didn't actually get to taste it, but, well, they still need to know what to make."
Ramirez's eyes took on that dark, hooded cop-face look. That unreadable gaze that left me forever guessing the emotion hiding behind them.
"They left a message on my voicemail saying a sample would be ready at the bakery day after tomorrow. So, how about it?"
"Look, Maddie, I can't think about a wedding right now. Can't you just... handle it?"
That squealy feeling faded instantly.
Our wedding was now something to be "handled."
Okay, I know he probably didn't mean it that way, but right then I didn't quite trust my voice. Instead, I just nodded, avoiding his gaze.
"Thanks." He wrapped one arm around me, grabbing the TV remote with the other and flipping on some basketball game in progress.
I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest, focusing on his steady heartbeat against my cheek and not the tiny bubble of anxiety those unreadable eyes had instigated in the pit of my stomach.
Probably Ramirez was just tired. Probably he was preoccupied. Probably it was that he just didn't have the energy to think about white organza-strewn aisles and not that he was having
"Wow, that's a specific approximation."
"Her watch stopped."
I raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged. "Got clogged with buttercream."
"What about DNA?"
"Have to wait for lab techs to finish processing."
"Okay. What else?"
"That's it."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
I sank back in my seat, suddenly thinking Dana and Marco were right. If that was all he had so far, Ramirez really did need our help.
Having divulged all he knew, Ramirez focused on the TV. Me - I had no interest in guys in squeaky shoes putting a ball in a net. Instead I wandered over to my drawing table, picking up a sketch for a pair of ruby red slingbacks I'd been working on. On the floor next to my drawing table sat a brown package that I'd swear hadn't been there this morning.
"Where'd that come from?" I asked, nodding with my head.
"UPS brought it after you went to the gym. Looks like a wedding present."
I dropped my sketch with a squeal. "We have unopened gifts in the house? Why didn't you tell me?"
I didn't wait for an answer, instead grabbing a pair of scissors from my drawing table and attacking the box. It was addressed to "the Future Mrs. Jack Ramirez" (which elicited another high-pitched squeal on my part) from Uncle Cal, my Mom's oldest brother. In a flurry of packing peanuts and bubble wrap, I dug into the sucker, pulling out our very first wedding gift, the first thing that belonged to us as a couple. I felt anticipation building in my stomach, as I emerged with a crystal... um...
"What the hell is that?" Ramirez asked, staring at our first wedding gift.
It was clear, angular, and... kinda shaped like a duck. With a spout coming out of its beak. And a handle made of crystal tail feathers.
"Gravy boat?"
"It looks like a duck."
"A duck-shaped gravy boat?"
Ramirez grinned. "Does this mean you're gonna learn how to cook when we get married?"
I resisted the urge to throw the gravy boat at him (I threw a packing peanut instead), shoving our anticlimactic first gift back in the box.
"Tell you what," I said. "I'll learn to cook when you learn to scrub toilets."
"Takeout it is."
"So," I said, joining him on the sofa. "Dana and Marco agreed to help plan the wedding now that Gigi's... well, you know..." I trailed off, not able to actually make myself say the words.
Ramirez narrowed his eyes. "Marco? He's the guy with the eyeliner?"
I nodded.
Ramirez shook his head. "God help us."
"They promised they'd keep it tasteful. Small."
He shot me a 'yeah right' look.
I would have argued with him, but honestly I had my own doubts.
"So... um, we still need to let the caterer know about the cake. I know we didn't actually get to taste it, but, well, they still need to know what to make."
Ramirez's eyes took on that dark, hooded cop-face look. That unreadable gaze that left me forever guessing the emotion hiding behind them.
"They left a message on my voicemail saying a sample would be ready at the bakery day after tomorrow. So, how about it?"
"Look, Maddie, I can't think about a wedding right now. Can't you just... handle it?"
That squealy feeling faded instantly.
Our wedding was now something to be "handled."
Okay, I know he probably didn't mean it that way, but right then I didn't quite trust my voice. Instead, I just nodded, avoiding his gaze.
"Thanks." He wrapped one arm around me, grabbing the TV remote with the other and flipping on some basketball game in progress.
I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest, focusing on his steady heartbeat against my cheek and not the tiny bubble of anxiety those unreadable eyes had instigated in the pit of my stomach.
Probably Ramirez was just tired. Probably he was preoccupied. Probably it was that he just didn't have the energy to think about white organza-strewn aisles and not that he was having
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